The Copper Scroll

  Bennett noticed that the stench didn’t seem as bad. Or perhaps he’d just gotten used to it. He also noticed that his radio was no longer working. He quickly changed batteries, but it didn’t help. He had gone too deep to get any reception. But he couldn’t stop now, so he dropped another glow stick and continued his journey into the subterranean maze.

  * * *

  Back on the surface, Erin was panicking.

  “I’m sure he’s fine,” said Natasha. “He knows what he’s doing.”

  “How do you know?” Erin shot back, more aggressively than she’d meant. “You barely know him.”

  “I know more than you think,” Natasha replied. “Uncle Eli used to go on and on about you guys until I thought I was going to be sick.”

  “Really?” said Erin. “He never mentioned you at all.” She suddenly realized how cold that sounded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

  “It’s all right,” Natasha said. “I know what it’s like to worry about someone you love.”

  “Your grandfather?” Erin asked.

  “Actually,” said Natasha, “I was thinking about my husband.”

  Erin was startled, to say the least. “Your husband?”

  “Binyamin,” Natasha said softly. “He was in the navy—a SEAL, you’d call him. Anyway, he went out on a mission off the coast of Beirut and he never came back.”

  “I’m so sorry,” said Erin. “I had no idea.”

  “It was a long time ago,” said Natasha. “Almost ten years.”

  Still, to Erin, the pain in her new friend’s eyes looked fresh. “First your parents, and then your husband?”

  “All the luck, huh?” said Natasha, her bottom lip beginning to quiver.

  * * *

  Just a little farther, Bennett decided.

  It was foolish, he knew. He was now at least three miles into the mountain. He must be nearing its core, he thought. But he couldn’t go back without knowing for sure. He took a gulp of water and squeezed around a tight corner and through a narrow crevice, dripping with water. A minute went by, then two, then five. All of a sudden the tunnel opened up into a large cavern. He could finally stand again, and when he did, he found himself at a dead end.

  And then he noticed something odd.

  Scattered about the floor of the cavern were six large piles of rocks. Where had they come from? They were obviously not natural formations, but who had put them there? And why?

  Bennett’s heart rate began to rise. He set down his backpack, pulled out a digital camera, and snapped a few pictures. Then he stuffed the camera back in its bag and got started.

  It was excruciating, backbreaking work. But after fifteen minutes, Bennett had cleared most of the rocks off the first pile. He pulled a spade from his pack and was preparing to dig when he realized he had already hit solid granite. There was nothing buried under the stones. Absolutely nothing.

  Bennett repeated the process with the second pile, and the third, but each time he found nothing, and what little hope he had left quickly began to fade. It was now three-thirty in the morning. By the time he got back to the cave entrance, it would be at least five, and then he’d have to climb his way out. There would be no time left to explore another cave. At that point, they’d barely have enough time to get home before sunrise. But the thought of turning back with nothing to show for it made him physically ill, and he pled with God to show him favor.

  * * *

  “Why are you here, Erin?” Natasha asked.

  The question came without warning, and Erin wasn’t sure what she meant.

  “Why are you doing this—you and Jon?” Natasha pressed. “Why risk your life for something that means nothing to you? I mean, this is my life. And it was my grandfather’s. But you’ve got no stake in this thing. Sure, it was important to Uncle Eli, and maybe you’ll track down his killers. But maybe not. Maybe they’ll get you first.”

  Erin looked in Natasha’s eyes. She was serious, and she was waiting for an answer Erin didn’t feel comfortable giving. But it was the truth, and she was too tired to come up with anything different.

  “Have you ever heard the expression ‘The safest place to be is in the center of God’s will’?”

  “No,” said Natasha.

  “It just means if God wants you to do something, you’d better do it, even if it sounds a little crazy. Jesus said, ‘If you love Me, you will keep My commandments.’ And I love Him more than I can possibly explain. So I try to be faithful to whatever He asks of me.”

  “And if He told you to jump off a bridge . . . ”

  “No, no, it’s not like that,” said Erin. “But it is a little hard to explain if you’ve never—” She paused abruptly, then shifted gears. “How many languages do you speak, Natasha?”

  “Speak or read?”

  “Whatever.”

  “Seven,” said Natasha.

  “Wow, that’s amazing.”

  “How about you?” Natasha demurred.

  “Three,” said Erin. “English, Arabic, and Russian. A little Farsi, I guess, but not much. But my point is that regardless of how many languages I could speak, if you were talking to me in Hebrew right now, I’d have absolutely no idea what you were saying. You could be telling me exactly where the treasure is, and I wouldn’t know it. You could be telling me how you met your husband and fell in love, but I’d have no idea. Why? Because I don’t know Hebrew. I haven’t studied it, much less become fluent. It would mean nothing to me, and I’d miss everything you were trying to say to me.

  “And you know, the same is true with God. He says He loves us ‘with an everlasting love.’ He has plans to give us ‘a hope and a future.’ He says He wants to adopt us into His family and have a personal relationship with us, to walk with us and talk to us and tell us great and mighty things we do not know. But unless we become true followers of His and learn to speak His language, we’ll completely miss what He’s trying to say. How did King Solomon put it? ‘He is intimate with the upright.’ And Jesus said, ‘My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me; and I give eternal life to them.’

  “For most of my life I didn’t get that. I wasn’t an atheist, mind you. Intellectually, I believed God existed, of course. But I just didn’t care. He seemed irrelevant to me—distant, removed, far away, and unconcerned with my life and my problems. And I think that was partly because I had no idea what I was missing.”

  “And you think God wants you to be out here,” asked Natasha, “in the heart of the West Bank, in the deep of the night, in bitter cold and whipping winds, hoping your husband finds some ancient Jewish treasure, or at least comes out alive?”

  “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” said Erin. “And besides, what if God has more than one reason for me to be out here?”

  “Like what?” asked Natasha.

  “Like giving you the chance to know the Messiah and hear His voice as well.”

  59

  TUESDAY, JANUARY 20 – 5:17 a.m. – MOUNT EBAL, THE WEST BANK

  It wouldn’t be long until daylight.

  Erin and Natasha were growing increasingly worried about Jon Bennett. He wasn’t back. He hadn’t checked in for hours, and there was no way for them to contact him unless they went in after him. But if he didn’t get back soon—with or without good news—they would have to drive back in daylight, and that meant the chances of getting caught or killed would rise dramatically.

  “I’m going in,” Erin said at last. She began fishing through one of the backpacks to find the gear she’d need.

  “Oh no you’re not,” insisted Natasha. “Not in your condition.”

  “I can’t leave him in there by himself,” Erin replied. “What if something terrible has happened to him?”

  “You’re not well enough, Erin. Not yet. And you’ve been up all night.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Erin insisted.

  But Natasha obviously wasn’t convinced. “Maybe we need to think about turning ourselves in. Didn’t your frien
d—that Costello guy—say he could talk to the prime minister for you? I’m sure they’d send out a team to help us.”

  “We’re not turning ourselves in to Doron.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t know who I can trust in that office, and neither do you,” said Erin. “You know as well as I do that the only chance we have of finding the people who killed Mordechai and your grandfather is finding the treasure. And we can’t do that if we’re in prison or dead.”

  But Natasha wouldn’t let it go. “What about your friend at CIA—Rajiv somebody?”

  “Indira Rajiv?”

  “Right,” said Natasha. “Didn’t Jon want you to enlist her help?”

  “I called her—several times. I never heard back.”

  “So call her again.”

  “For what?”

  “I don’t know,” said Natasha. “For satellite coverage. An extraction team. Advice. Something. Anything. She helped you before. I’m sure she’d help you again, especially if she knew you and Jon were in danger.”

  Erin considered that for a moment. Maybe Natasha was right. They were flying solo and it wasn’t going well. If there was anyone she could trust, she figured it was Rajiv. And even if she couldn’t help them directly, perhaps Rajiv could point them to someone who could help.

  Erin powered up the satellite phone and called Rajiv’s cell phone. There was no answer. She tried the home number but again got voice mail. She closed her eyes and tried to think. Rajiv had a satellite phone as well, but what was the number? Finally it came to her and she dialed.

  “Hi, this is Indira. I’m sorry I can’t take your call right now. But please leave a message and I’ll get right back to you.”

  Her anxiety about Jon rising quickly, Erin decided to leave a message. It was a risk, to be sure, but for the moment she couldn’t think of what else to do.

  “Indira, it’s me, Erin. I really need your help. We’re in the West Bank, near Nablus. Jon’s missing. He went into a cave on Mount Ebal and never came back. Call me back as soon as you can. Please. It’s urgent.” Then she gave Rajiv their satphone number and hung up.

  “No luck?” asked Natasha.

  “No,” said Erin. She donned her gear and prepared to head into the cave.

  Natasha stepped in front of her, blocking the way. “I can’t let you go in there. You’ll just hurt yourself. Isn’t there anyone else you can call?”

  “No,” said Erin. “I’m sorry. There just isn’t. Now I’m going in. I’ll call you as soon as I find him, and we’ll figure out what to do then.” She started forward again.

  Natasha didn’t move. “You think something’s really happened to him?”

  “Why else would he be taking so long?”

  “Maybe he found something.”

  “Then he’d call in.”

  “Maybe he’s out of range. Look, if something has happened to him—and believe me, I hope to God that nothing has—but if it has, you’re not going to be able to get him out of there alone. Even together we couldn’t do it. We need more bodies, and we’re going to need a helicopter.”

  Erin thought about that. “What about yours?” she asked.

  “Not possible.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, first of all, it’s not mine,” said Natasha. “Second, there’s no way to get it out of Jerusalem with all the police and border patrol out looking for us. How about you? Know anyone else with a helicopter?”

  “Someone who won’t turn us in?”

  “Narrows it down, doesn’t it?” asked Natasha.

  “A bit, yeah,” said Erin. She thought a moment. “Actually,” she said, “there is somebody.”

  “Who?”

  “Dmitri Galishnikov.”

  Natasha raised her eyebrows. “Miriam’s boss?”

  Erin nodded.

  “The founder and CEO of Medexco—the richest man in Israel?”

  “That’s him,” said Erin. “He’s got a fleet of choppers. Better yet, he’s got a license to fly all of them. When he was younger—much younger, before he struck oil—he used to run commando missions for the IDF.”

  “Really?” asked Natasha. “I had no idea.”

  Erin pulled out the phone again and dialed.

  “It’s ringing,” she said a moment later. “Hello, Mr. Galishnikov? It’s Erin Bennett. I am so, so sorry to wake you, but I’m afraid Jon and I very much need your help.”

  * * *

  Under the fourth rock pile, Bennett hit pay dirt.

  Buried in the center of the stones was a large clay pot, not unlike the ones he had seen in the Shrine of the Book. His hands began to tremble with excitement. He carefully tipped the pot and shined his headlamp inside. And there, waiting, undisturbed for the past two thousand years, was yet another scroll.

  * * *

  Natasha was not about to let Erin go into the tunnel alone.

  But they were both becoming more and more concerned. Natasha was almost to the point of going in herself to look for Bennett when there came a shout from the bottom of the cave shaft.

  A few minutes later, Jon’s filthy face appeared.

  “Thank God you’re okay,” Erin exclaimed, giving her husband a huge embrace. “You had me freaking out up here.”

  “I’m sorry—I’m okay, really. I’m fine,” he promised, giving her a long and tender kiss.

  “What happened?” she asked, coming up for air. “What took you so long?”

  “It’s a long story,” said Bennett.

  He pulled off his backpack and unzipped it. Then he pulled out a blanket and slowly, carefully unwrapped it. And there, in its center, was the scroll.

  “No treasure in there,” Bennett said as he handed Natasha their latest clue, “but it wasn’t a complete waste of time. At least I come bearing gifts.”

  But there was no time to examine the scroll. All three lifted their heads as a distant rumble, almost like thunder, grew nearer and intensified.

  “What is that?” Bennett asked.

  “Probably our ride,” said Erin, glancing at her watch. “Right on time.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Natasha and I were getting worried about you,” she said. “So I decided to call in some backup.”

  “Erin, you didn’t,” Bennett said, still looking around for the source of the growing noise. “Tell me you didn’t call Doron.”

  “I didn’t call Doron.”

  “Erin . . . ”

  “I didn’t call Doron, Jon,” she insisted. “Ye of little faith!”

  Erin and Natasha both stood and together helped the exhausted Bennett to his feet as a Bell 430 executive helicopter began descending a few yards away. Bennett peered into the cockpit just as the morning sun began to peek over the eastern mountains, only to find a familiar face at the controls.

  “You called Dmitri?” he yelled over the roar of the rotors.

  “I couldn’t think of anyone else,” Erin shouted back.

  “You’re amazing!”

  “Thanks. Now let’s go, before someone figures out what we’re doing up here.”

  * * *

  Mariano’s team stared in shock.

  They watched in stunned silence as the jet helicopter touched down halfway up the western face of Mount Ebal. They thought they had prepared for every eventuality. But they hadn’t prepared for this.

  “What do we do?” one of the men radioed to his team leader.

  “Take them out. I repeat, take them out.”

  * * *

  The back door of the chopper swung open.

  There were three large men in the back—security types, Erin figured, probably working for Medexco—and they eagerly helped Bennett and the women scramble aboard with all of their gear, then quickly closed the door behind them.

  “Welcome to Air Jerusalem,” Galishnikov said over the intercom as the chopper began to gain altitude. “It is an honor to have you aboard this morning. Please buckle your seat belts and make yo
urselves comfortable. We’ll be flying today at—”

  A gunshot suddenly shattered the side window. Two more shots ripped into the fuselage. Natasha was screaming. Blood covered her face. Another shot shattered the copilot’s window, though fortunately there was no one in that seat.

  Bennett instinctively pushed Erin and Natasha to the floor and covered their bodies with his own.

  One of the men near Bennett smashed out one of the back windows with the butt of a rifle and began returning fire. A moment later, another did as well.

  Galishnikov swung the bird around, and they began to climb rapidly. They could still hear rounds smashing into metal all around them, but before they knew it, they had cleared the mountain and were racing westward, trembling, wounded, and wondering who had found them and how.

  60

  TUESDAY, JANUARY 20 – 8:12 a.m. – MEDITERRANEAN COAST OF ISRAEL

  Eventually they landed at Galishnikov’s seaside estate in Netanya.

  Perhaps someday, thought Bennett, they’d be able to relax on the grounds of the palatial, five-acre, $19 million compound, with its tennis courts, swimming pool, and fountains, all overlooking the glistening Mediterranean. But today, he knew, wasn’t going to be that day.

  Dmitri’s wife, Katya, met them on the landing pad and hurried them inside and into the spacious living room as Dmitri explained what had just happened. Then Katya wrapped Erin in blankets, got her tucked in on a couch, and began treating Natasha’s facial lacerations, while Dmitri made coffee and brought in some rolls and fruit.

  “How about you?” Katya asked Bennett when she had finished with the others. “Are you okay?”

  “Just a little rattled,” he said, grateful for the hot mug in his cold hands, “and worried about those two.”

  “I’d imagine so,” she replied. “I just feel sick about what’s happening to the three of you—Eli, then Yossi, and now this. It’s madness. I don’t know how you three are still functioning.”